Anchor
by whirlwinds of watercolours
Summary: He was her anchor to the ground - the one who stopped her from exploding and kept her sane through the madness.


**Summary: He was her anchor to the ground - the one who stopped her from exploding and kept her sane through the madness.**

**Rating: T for some swear words and deaths.**

**Word Count: 925**

**Written For: Birthday Fic Exchange: Oneofthosepeopleonthestreet (terribly sorry for the lateness!); GGE: Sylvia; 52 Weeks of Writing Competition; The Hunger Games Competition: Round 1; Honeydukes Competition: Licorice Wands; Diagon Alley Challenge: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes; Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Competition: Canary Creams; Innuendo/Quote Competition; Sad and Depressing Oneshot Challenge**

**A/N: Many thanks to my betas _Emma Quinn_ and _VenusInHerHair_! Also, Liza, as promised, this is dedicated to you!**

**Happy belated birthday, Sylvia darling!**

* * *

When you first meet him on the train to Hogwarts, you don't think very highly of him.

"You arrogant toerag!"

* * *

In your first year, he plays pranks by pulling at your hair and putting toads on your bed.

You scream at him.

He laughs in your face and runs away, leaving you fuming.

* * *

In your third year, he is still as childish as ever.

"Potter! Detention, for turning Mr Snape's hair pink!"

You tell him off after McGonagall's reprimand and he just rolls his eyes, saying that Slytherins are stupid and they deserve it.

You punch him in the face, stalking away, fuming (again) and leaving him flabbergasted.

_He _deserves it.

* * *

In your fourth year, he locks you and himself in a broom closet (by accident, he claims, but you know better).

You spend the next few hours ranting at him because you have nothing better to do (silly girl, why did you leave your wand in the dorm room?), while he keeps silent but you know he's probably rolling his eyes in the dark.

Only a few hours later does someone (out of all people, it has to be Black) find you two, sore and stiff and definitely not in the best of moods.

"You two having shenanigans in the dark?" he snickers jokingly, looking from James's exasperated face to your own tired one.

You may have been dying of exhaustion and asphyxiation from being locked in a cupboard with Potter for a few hours, but that doesn't stop you from socking Black in the nose.

* * *

In your fifth year, he (unfortunately) starts fancying you.

"Bog off and stop asking me out, Potter."

"Please, Evans?"

"No."

"But –"

"Leave me alone if you want to retain all your body parts."

* * *

You're a frazzled bunch of nerves when you stumble into the common room.

"Evans?"

You turn around to find the concerned face of Potter peering at you from the portrait hole and you have to stifle back a groan because you're so _not_ in the mood for him right now; not after what happened that afternoon with his _stupid_ joke and Severus.

"Fuck off, Potter." You never swear, but right now you just can't help it as the dirty word leaves your lips and taints the air around you. Who the fuck cares, anyway? You're a dirty _Mudblood_, remember? You're already polluting the air with your very presence.

"Don't cry because it's over, Evans. Smile because it happened."

"Being philosophical, aren't we, Potter? I never would've expect something like this coming out of _your_ mouth," you snarl.

Before he can reply, you swirl around and stomp up the stairs and close the dormitory door behind you with a loud slam, but not before you hear him whisper the words.

"You're going to be okay, Lily."

As you lie in bed that night with tear-stained bed sheets and muffled sobbing, you realise that it's the first time he's ever called you Lily.

* * *

"Evans?"

"What do you want, Potter?"

"How are you feeling today?"

"Fantastic."

Silence.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

It's the same conversation every morning.

* * *

"Filthy little Mudblood."

"Get out of here before I hex your balls off, Goyle."

You keep on telling him that you don't need him to protect yourself, because you're _Lily Evans _and Lily Evans can stick up for herself. But he doesn't listen (he never does).

* * *

You sort of get used to him after a while.

You might even start to call him a… friend (something you thought you would never do in your lifetime). Back in your first year, you would've thought that that was something impossible, seeing as he was so immature and such a spoilt prat back then – but he isn't that unbearable now, is he?

So with that thought in your mind, it's no surprise when his excited letter comes in through your kitchen window one fine morning bringing the news that he's been promoted to Head Boy.

You laugh at the childish innocence in his letter as he rambles on about how Dumbledore must've made a mistake, and you're still grinning that afternoon when you send back your reply.

You think that they couldn't have chosen a better Head Boy.

* * *

"Marry me, James."

"What?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

After only a week of marriage, Dumbledore visits your house.

You know it's no leisure trip; the grave look on his face can tell you so much even before he speaks a word.

"_No."_

"I'm sorry, Lily," Dumbledore comforts sympathetically, but you don't hear a word of what he says anymore as you sink down to the ground clutching the small bump in your stomach, the fresh sobs racking your body. You feel James's arms encircle you and feel him whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but you're a mess right now; you're past the point of coherency.

"I'm sorry," you blubber, because it's your fault that he's being dragged into this mess as well. "What are we going to do now?"

"We're going to be okay, Lily."

(You may have believed him once, but you don't think you're going to this time.)

* * *

"Don't you ever leave me, James Potter."

"Never."

* * *

He's your anchor to the ground; he's the one who stops you from exploding and keeps you sane through the madness.

But now he's sprawled on the floor in this awkward position, and his eyes – _his eyes – _they're blank and lifeless and they lack the shine they usually possess, because he's _dead._

(And you're only a few seconds away from joining him.)

_"Avada Kedavra."_


End file.
